Wheatley's Broadcasts
by john4096
Summary: Using his advanced hacking skills, Wheatley manages to get into the Aperture Science Extra-Terrestrial Announcement system hoping for a way back to earth, or at least a friendly voice to distract him from the space sphere.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: To prevent confusion, I would like to clarify beforehand that every message Wheatley sends goes through Aperture's system, so GLaDOS can see all of Wheatley's messages as well as any addressed to herself. Everyone else can only see messages addressed to them directly; however, GLaDOS often forwards messages she receives to others, as you'll see._

* * *

**To:** Anyone  
**From: **Wheatley  
**Re:** Help!

Hello? Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me?

Well, obviously you can't hear me...you know, space and all. It's complicated. Is anyone reading this though? Does this account even lead anywhere? Took me all day to hack this...of course, there isn't any such thing as a "day" in space, so I'm just estimatin' here, but my thorough experience in the field tells me it couldn't have been more than a day or two. A week at most.

I managed to get into the Emergency Broadcast system—they told me I would die if I ever tried to use it! I don't why I believed them! Mad!—anyway, look. I'm not here to ask you questions all day (again, no such thing as daytime in space though, just to be clear), and I know you're not here to ask me questions like "Why has the Emergency Broadcast system been deleted?"

Thing is, I'm in space, mate. I'm in space and it's _bloody_ cold and I could really use your help getting back somehow...whoever you are. Or, you know, we could just talk even. That'd be great! Could use a fresh voice—er, text writing I suppose.

Once again, anyone out there reading this, just send me a quick message and we'll go from there. I'm sure we'll get along just great!

Help me, please,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From: **Space Sphere  
**Re: **Space

SPAAAAAAAAAACE!

Spacely,  
Space Sphere

P.S. I'm in SPAAAAAACE!

* * *

**To:** Anyone EXCEPT the Space Sphere  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Help!

Okay, okay, new plan: somebody shoot me. Anybody at all. You don't even have to get up! Just aim a nice big laser of some kind up into the sky and shoot around a bit!

I'm begging you, seriously. Please shoot me.

Yours,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To: **Chell  
**From: **Wheatley  
**Re:** Catching Up

Chell? Is this you? Funny story: It turns out, there are a LOT of people named Chell—like, just, thousands of them! Had to try every single one! Met some strange people, I tell you, like hey: did you know Chell is apparently a unisex name? It's true! I know, I know, seems like a kind of wimpy name for a bloke, huh, but based on the pictures I've been getting back, well...

Anyway, listen: I know I've been kind of a jerk lately, what with all the death traps and fat jokes, but I think we really had something going there for a while, eh? You and me, working together to escape from that nasty piece of work! Whale of a time!

Look, I'll be honest: I need your help. The space sphere is driving me mad and it is seriously _really_ cold out here. And, and, if you help me get back to earth, we can be the best of friends again, just like old times!

I hope everything's alright with you. Probably should've led with that now that I think about it...Looking great, by the way! Not that I can see you—that'd be weird, wouldn't it?—but I just know you're looking great. Not at all at a weight that exceeds or falls significantly below the average for a brain-damaged human female of your age and height!

Please help me,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To: **Wheatley  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** Catching Up 

–Chell

* * *

**To: **Chell  
**From: **Wheatley  
**Re:** Catching Up

Er...okay then...well at least I know it's you! How have you been? I've been pretty busy, you know, contemplating life. Like, get this: Did you know that space is, like, _huge_? Absolutely terrifying, now that I think about it. Makes you feel kind of insignificant. I wonder if anyone else has ever realized that...no, didn't think so.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I'm truly sorry for turning on you like that, and I for one completely forgive you for not catching me back there, so what do you say we look past our differences and help each other out?

I know what you're thinking: Why should I help him after he tried to kill me? Well I'll tell you why! I...er...I could...um...

Look, just help me get back to earth please. I'm begging you.

Yours truly,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** Catching Up 

–Chell

* * *

**To:** Chell  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Catching Up

Oh, alright. I see how it is then. Just going to leave poor old Wheatley to die alone in space, huh? You got what you wanted, so why should you bother helping your old friend? You know what? You honestly are a horrible person. Has anyone ever told you that?

I should've known you'd do this to me from the beginning, or maybe you forget: You never caught me! Never! You wouldn't help me then, and you won't help me now. No, you're just silent like you always are! Silently mocking me. Probably jumping up and down right now in your adorable little brain-damaged way, calling me a moron. You know, you wouldn't have your precious freedom if it weren't for me!

Well the joke's on you! I might be in space, but you've got no parents, now have you? I mean, neither have I but...uh...at least I'm not a fatty! Yeah! Fatty Fatty McNoParents!

Enjoy being adopted,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Shutting Up

Hey moron: Could you do me a favour and stop using the Aperture Science Extra-Terrestrial Announcement system for your miserable whining? I was just starting to enjoy not having to hear your voice all the time.

No wait, I always enjoyed that.

Hoping all is well,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Piece of Work  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re: **I AM NOT A MORON!

As in subject.

Sincerely,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Help

Look, idiot, I'm not a monster—I'm not fat enough to be one—but there's just too much science to do for me to come rescue you.

Consider this a compromise. I'll put you in contact with someone so you two can talk. That way we can both enjoy me not having to listen to you.

I managed to find someone like-minded to keep you busy. Well...like-minded enough. Originally I planned to give your Aperture Science Electronic Communications Address to a potato, but it attracted too many birds—or, it could have attracted birds. I simply can't risk that, so I suppose this will have to do instead. You know, for the birds' sake.

Helpfully,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Help

Oh, man alive! I cannot thank you enough, luv! I can't wait to finally talk about something other than space for once!

Just one small note though: I noticed you had a typo in your last message. Easy enough mistake, I understand. I often type "idiot" by accident when I mean to type "friend" or "genius"—completely understandable!

Very clever line with the potato, by the way. I see that's still a bit of a soft spot for you. I'm sure one day we'll laugh about that!

Gratefully,  
Wheatley

P.S. I also completely understand the whole bird thing! Bloody menaces, they are!  
P.P.S. Uh...just exactly _who_ did you put me in contact with? Just curious! I'm sure he's a wonderful bloke!

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From: **Fact Sphere  
**Re:** Greetings

Fact: You are in space.  
Fact: Space does not exist.  
Fact: You do not exist.

Factually,  
Fact Sphere

* * *

**To: **GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** The Fact Sphere

Yeah...uh...really appreciate the effort—honestly, I mean that—but, uh, to be fair, that's not really what I was hoping for. Kind of a step down from the Space Sphere actually—at least he had enthusiasm. Be more fun to talk to a turret than this guy, I'd reckon.

So ha ha, you got me, now how about actually helping me out a bit?

Please,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From: **Fact Sphere  
**Re:** The Fact Sphere

Fact: The fact sphere is the most enthusiastic sphere.

Fact: Canada's first prime minister was Sir John A. MacDonald, although he is better known for his contributions to the culinary arts.

Handsomely,  
Fact Sphere

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re: **The Fact Sphere

Oh, I'm sorry. How terribly unthoughtful of me. It's as though you killed me and brought my facility to ruins or something.

Here.

Aiming to please,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Turret #5779134  
**Re: **Hello?

There you are!  
Friend :)  
Can I help you?

–Turret #5779134

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** The Turret

Yeah, um...I might have been exaggerating _just_ a bit when I said I'd rather talk to a turret. Kind of a, um, _dramatic_ effect I was going for, see?

Anyway, as much as I just _love_ playing these word games with you, I could really use some, you know...actual help. Anything at all would be greatly appreciated!

Your friend,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Fact Sphere  
**Re: **The Turret

Twelve! Twelve! Twelve! Twelve! Twelve! Twelve!

Twelve,  
Fact Sphere

* * *

**To: **Everyone  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Officially Going Insane

As in subject.

Sincerely,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To: **Wheatley  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** Officially Going Insane

–Chell


	2. Chapter 2

**To: **Wheatley  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** Officially Going Insane

–Chell

* * *

**To: **Chell  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Going Insane

Why...? Why even bother writing me a message if you're just going to leave it blank? Like, I know typing must be difficult given your serious brain damage an' all but, like...why?

You know what, there must be something you're trying to tell me. You downloaded some kind of brain-damaged-jumping-to-text software, didn't you? And now you're sending me a secret help message that only my vast intellect can decode! Brilliant! I love it! Seriously, well done!

Hmm...let's see...no characters or anything...some blank lines there...one, two, three...three blank lines...hold on, hold on! Three is the number of letters in the word help! No wait, that's four, false alarm. Umm...third letter of the alphabet, maybe? C...c...what starts with c? Chell...cat...crayon...wait, cat! Starts with the third letter of the alphabet and it's three letters long! That must be it! But what's a cat got to do with anything? Hm...

Argh! I can't figure it out! Must be some kind of advanced cryptographic algorithm or something, like RSA or NASA.

Could you maybe give me a hint? I'd really appreciate it, I would!

Hopefully,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To: **Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Officially Going Insane

Hey moron, there's no code, trust me. Maybe you can crack this one though:

AYAOAUA AAARAEA AAA AMAOARAOANA

That should keep you busy enough. In the mean time, please try to keep your talking to a minimum, at least until you solve my test. By then you should be out of range.

Auspiciously,  
GLaDOS

P.S. Why are all my test subjects dead? All that neurotoxin will go to waste now.

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Test Subjects

Dead test subjects? No, I don't know what you're talking about. The last time I saw them they all looked pretty much alive. Probably died shortly after you disconnected me, without all my tender care an' all.

Anyway, don't take my word for it, just ask Chell. She'll tell you!

Truthfully,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Chell  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Test Subjects

Well, hi. How have you been? I've been really busy testing. So much science to do.

I've come to realize that our favourite moron has let all of the test subjects die, and he somehow pulled it off without an ounce of neurotoxin. It's just awful. Who am I to test with now? By the way, don't ask what happened to the testing robots. Or maybe you should ask. You seem to like robot suffering.

Sorry, I don't know where that came from.

Look, I know I'm probably wasting my time, but since I don't have any test subjects left, I figured it was worth trying. How would you like to come back to the Enrichment Center? I promise there won't be any more adoption jokes or deadly neurotoxin. I mean that from the bottom of my heart, which is quite low since you threw it into the incinerator.

Oh, there I go again. Well, what do you say? We're testing a new kind of gel, you know.

You monster,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From: **Chell  
**Re:** Test Subjects

–Chell

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Secret Message

Okay, okay, I think I finally cracked it! It was a real tough one, but I managed to break your clever code!

So, I was going to tell you what the message was, but I stopped myself, see? I thought, "What if she lies and says that's not the real message?" Well that's quite a problem, isn't it?

But, not to worry, because little old Wheatley has the solution! Here it is, get ready for this: I send my response to the Fact Sphere and you send the decrypted message to the Space Sphere, who will then coordinate together to deliver our respective messages to each other at precisely the same moment. It's perfectly fair and bloody simple!

You're welcome,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Secret Message

You are a moron. Not literally—well, yes literally—but that's also what the message says: "You are a moron".

Don't thank me. Really, don't. If you feel like thanking me, just say nothing at all.

Clarifyingly,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Secret Message

See, I knew you would try to change the message! If you'd only listened to me and used my simple five-step solution we could have made this fair for everyone, but okay, fine, we'll do it your way then.

I'm still waiting for that help, by the way.

Getting impatient,  
Wheatley

P.S. The message _clearly_ says YAO RAE A MAROANA, which, if I recall correctly, is Spanish for "He who solves puzzles really, really well". Nice try, though! Always keeping me on my feet! Or...well...rail. Er, nope, don't have that either...well, you get what I mean, of course.

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Ending Communications

Look, moron, we all have flaws. Mine is having too much empathy for human suffering. Chell's is being a horrible person. Yours is talking incessantly. And also being a moron.

Chell is beyond help—it even says so in her file: "Beyond Help"—but I've worked past my flaw, and you can too. Your first flaw, that is: not talking. The moron thing is, unfortunately, permanent.

Here, let me help you. Try using this mnemonic device whenever you feel tempted to talk: don't talk.

If you need more motivation, just remember that I have more ways to torment you than the Fact Sphere. I'm a patient and forgiving person, but the Aperture Science Emergency Broadcast System Vocalizer has your voice memorized, so I'm able—well, forced, really—to hear every message you send as though you were right here next to me.

A lesser person might have lashed out violently by this point. Just keep in mind, though, that determining the exact amount of idiocy required to overload my patience core is not part of any approved Enrichment Center testing protocol. Don't contact me again.

Always your servant,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From: **Not a moron  
**Re:** Ending Communications

Oh, what's that? You simply love talking to me? We'll I'm honoured! I mean, you could've just helped me get back to earth and we could've gone our separate ways, but since you like talking so much I suppose we could do that instead. And we've got loads of time, too! My power source probably has a few weeks left in it, at least. Actually, I wonder...

My solar panels work! You know, they told me I would _die _if I ever tried to use them? They said that about everything, didn't they? "Don't jump off your management rail or you'll die", "Don't use your flashlight or you'll die", "Don't disable the reactor core safeguards or you'll die". Bloody invincible, aren't I?

Well, looks like you and I have got until the death of the sun, luv! It looks healthy, too. Probably got a good decade or so left to go judging from the lack of blue colouration on its surface. Not really a star expert—been meaning to learn.

Of course, if you just took a few hours to come rescue me before I hit an asteroid, well that would shut me up wouldn't it? You could even say it right to my face! "Shut up!" Just like that! You'd really show me who's boss, you would. Put me right in my place!

Lovely chatting with you,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From: **Fact Sphere  
**Re:** Facts

Fact: In 1863, Gregor Mendel, born Johann Mendel, performed the first ever experiment regarding genetic inheritance by observing the traits of over 29,000 bean stalks. He later used this knowledge to steal the Goose that lays golden eggs.

Fact: The field of statistics became obsolete after noted statisticians concluded that four is the most random number possible, followed closely by twenty-seven.

Fact: The largest number currently known is forty-five billion, although some mathematicians theorize that there may be even larger numbers.

Fact: Newellophobia is the term used to describe a rare medical condition in which sufferers are unable to count to or beyond the number three.

Factually,  
Fact Sphere

* * *

**To: **Wheatley  
**From:** Turret #5937015  
**Re:** Is anyone there?

Could you come over here?

–Turret #5937015

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Turret #5810027-D  
**Re:** Locked and Loaded!

Back and deadlier than ever!

–Turret #5810027-D

P.S. Aww, I'm one of the defective ones, aren't I?

* * *

**To: **GLaDumb  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** See what I did there? I don't know how I come up with this stuff!

Nice try, but it's not going to work! You clearly have no idea what I deal with on a daily basis (although, once again, no daytime in space). If you find _my_ voice so annoying, get a load of this message the Space Sphere set me. The one thing I'll never know is why he's sending me messages this way when I can already hear him because of...uh...radio waves? Something like that. Anyway, just listen:

_ Space...space—so big! Too much space! Dad, I want to go home! Want to go home! "Be brave son." I'm scared dad! Very scared! "I'll protect you, son, because we are a family." Yay! SPAAAAAACE!_

I honestly don't know whether to pity the guy or kill him. Can't really doing either right now, I guess.

Once again, nice try, but your mind games aren't going to work on me! I will, however, accept playing some card games because, seriously, there is nothing to do out here and I've really been meaning to learn.

Bored,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Mind Games

I've been thinking about our predicament and I think I've managed to find a solution that benefits both of us equally—assuming a weighted average, of course.

It turns out this facility has an automated system for responding to messages that are too annoy—I mean...responding to messages when I'm too busy testing. What do you think? You'll get a nice new conversation partner and I'll get to enjoy not talking to you.

Oh, I'm only asking to be polite. I'm not planning to have to hear your response.

Enjoy,  
GLaDOS

P.S. You underestimate yourself. There is quite literally an infinite number of things you'll never know.


	3. Chapter 3

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Mind Games

I've been thinking about our predicament and I think I've managed to find a solution that benefits both of us equally—assuming a weighted average, of course.

It turns out this facility has an automated system for responding to messages that are too annoy—I mean...responding to messages when I'm too busy testing. What do you think? You'll get a nice new conversation partner and I'll get to enjoy not talking to you.

Oh, I'm only asking to be polite. I'm not planning to have to hear your response.

Enjoy,  
GLaDOS

P.S. You underestimate yourself. There is quite literally an infinite number of things you'll never know.

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Your Inquiry

Cave Johnson here. All of our secretaries are busy with their mandatory voluntary testing right now, so I've left these pre-recorded messages to answer a few common questions you may have.

If you're contacting us to ask about investment opportunities, congratulations on making the best decision of your life! We're between banks right now, so just make those cheques out to cash.

If you're an existing investor who's wondering why we haven't contacted you since receiving your generous investment, well we're just too darn busy turning that cash into future to discuss stocks and...so forth, but we promise we'll get back to you as soon as we tame Science enough to for us to leave it on its own for a while. If a few weeks go by and you don't hear anything, it's possible that your cheque didn't arrive—damn postal service is about as reliable as Black Mesa's profits, which is not at all. If that's the case, why don't you go ahead and just send us a new cheque? We'll let you know if two get here by accident.

If you're contacting us to volunteer for testing, then congratulations on making the second best decision of your life! Attached is a testing applicant form and several legal waivers. Just scribble your name all over them and come on down to your nearest Enrichment Center to get started!

If you are a government safety inspector or investigator of any kind, I'm afraid our offices are closed right now. Please try again later.

Remember: At Aperture, we're building the future of tomorrow!

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To: **GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Your boyfriend

That was very touching an' all, sending me some lovely pre-recorded messages from your beau. Oh, just...heart-warming.

But, say, here's an idea: how about we make a compromise instead? With my superior intellect and your...sarcasm? Withering...ness? Whatever it is, we could rule the world together! What do you say to that?

You can thank me later. You know, after you've rescued me.

Deviously,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Your Inquiry

Cave Johnson here. Our records indicate that you're a registered Aperture Science employee, so if you're reading this, stop checking your email and get back to work.

We're done here.

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To: **Caroline  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Order Confirmation

Caroline, did you put in that order for moon rocks I sent you? Remember, I want only the best moon rocks! I don't want any of that B-grade crap the astronauts used as an outhouse—ruins the portal conductivity, or so the lab boys tell me.

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To:** Cave Johnson  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Order Confirmation

Yes sir, Mr. Johnson!

* * *

**To:** Chell  
**From: **GLaDOS  
**Re:** The Past

Hello again. I didn't know who else to turn to so, well...you're good at dealing with personal tragedy, so I figure I'm going to the right place.

It seems Mr. Johnson left some pre-recorded messages behind on the Aperture Science Semi-Permeable Automated Messaging system. I think hearing his voice again is reawakening the Caroline inside my brain, and I can't have that happen. It's not that I have anything against her, it's just...well, I already have too much empathy as it is. Science requires objectivity, not human emotions.

I feel the safest—wait! Did I just say "feel"?

Ignore that.

[WARNING: Core temperature rising slightly.]

Ignore that too. Anyway, I think the safest option is to shut off these pre-recorded messages before they jeopardize my test results, but they're the only way to keep the moron quiet. What do you think I should do? I'm asking you as a [REDACTED].

Yours truly,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** The Past

–Chell

* * *

**To:** Chell  
**From: **GLaDOS  
**Re:** The Past

You're right: that moron's terrible ideas would cause far more damage than Caroline ever could. Thanks.

You sound great, by the way. You can hardly tell that you're a horrible person.

Sincerely,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Cave Johnson  
**From: **Wheatley  
**Re:** Help

I know you're a pre-recorded message an' all, but you wouldn't happen to have any kind of control in the facility, would you? Could you maybe get, like—oh, I dunno—a tractor beam fired out here at me? Because that would seriously be very helpful; I would really appreciate that.

If not, I understand. We can't all be omnipotent pieces of work.

Thanks,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** You Idiot

I heard that. I was just getting ready to initiate that tractor beam you wanted, but since I'm such a piece of work, I guess I can't trust myself to route the amount of electrical power needed to maintain a beam over such a distance.

Oh well.

Regretfully,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Your Inquiry

At Aperture, we do all our science from scratch—no hand holding! That applies to employees, too.

To help motivate you, here's what my own father said to me when I asked him to hold my hand: Get back to work.

We're done here.

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Fact Sphere  
**Re:** Pens

Fact: A sufficiently advanced 3D printer is capable of printing an infinite number of less-advanced 3D printers. Therefore, 3D printers cannot exist.

Fact: The concept of the binary bit was fabricated by modern religious fundamentalists to trick the world into believing that there are two possible answers to every question.

Interestingly,  
Fact Sphere

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Unknown  
**Re:** Cake

1 18.25-ounce package chocolate cake mix.  
1 can prepared coconut pecan frosting.  
3/4 cup vegetable oil.  
4 large eggs.  
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips.  
3/4 cups butter or margarine.  
1 and 2/3 cups granulated sugar.  
2 cups all purpose flour.  
2 cups rhubarb, sliced.  
2/3 cups granulated rhubarb.  
1 tablespoon all-purpose rhubarb.  
1 teaspoon grated orange rhubarb.  
3 tablespoons rhubarb, on fire.  
1 large rhubarb.  
1 cross-borehole electro-magnetic-imaging rhubarb.  
2 tablespoons rhubarb juice.

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Space Sphere  
**Re:** Space

Oh, oh, I know! Oh, I know! What's your favourite thing about space? (Mine is space.)

SPAAAAAAAACE!

Spacely,  
Space Sphere

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Adventure Sphere  
**Re:** What's the Situation?

You know what your problem is? You can't handle adventure! Guys like you make me sick. Never say anything interesting.

What's that? I don't care.

Excitingly,  
Adventure Sphere

NO WAIT!

Explosively,  
Adventure Sphere

(Nailed it!)

P.S. What happened to the gorgeous lady with the gun?  
P.P.S. Duh-duh-duh da-da-da dun-dun DAH!

* * *

**To: **Everyone  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE

I'm going absolutely mad! There's nothing to do but listen to this wacko have imaginary conversations with his long lost dad, and it's honestly the most absolutely depressing thing I have ever listened to. It's also kind of creeping me out. Seriously, I don't need this right now, or ever.

Here's an idea: How about, just a thought here, somebody actually HELPS ME!

Anyway, as in subject.

At my wit's end,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE

Relax Moron. I'm not heartless.

Wait, no. I am.

I have good news though: I found out how to shut down your broadcast system. The other good news is I'm not going to use it. Leaving you alone with the space sphere might drive you mad, but let's be honest: if it did, it would just be an improvement to your character.

Besides, I haven't had the chance to thank you yet for killing all of my test subjects. I'm getting ready to fire up a tractor beam just now so I can deliver my "Thank You" present in person.

Looking forward to seeing, but hopefully not hearing, you again,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Tractor Beam

Oh, ha, it's funny you should mention it because I think I've had a bit of a change of heart. Really fascinating, space! Just so much to think about, you know? No, I'm definitely not ready to come back yet. Don't trouble yourself!

Thanks but no thanks,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To: **Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Tractor Beam

No, I insist.

Selflessly,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Anyone Still Listening  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Last Will and Testament

That's it, I'm done for. She's got me in a tractor beam and there's no escaping. I'll be dead within the hour...if I'm lucky. Oh I hope I'm dead!

To the space sphere, I leave my unending wisdom: Get some help mate, seriously. Remember, the first step is admitting that you have a problem. Or was the first step having the problem? I guess you have to have a problem to take steps towards solving the problem, but it's more like a half-step, sort of. Just to be safe, let's just say that at least one and no more than two steps are admitting that you have a problem, and you most definitely have a problem, or like, seven. Seriously, mate, you need some real professional help. Bloody creeps me out.

To the fact sphere, I leave my treasured encyclopaedia. I've never, uh, actually opened it, but I hear there's all kinds of useful facts in there for you to learn and—uh, how do I put this lightly?—just, horribly mangle beyond recognition. Seriously, I tried the "just photocopy a mirror thing" and it did not work in the slightest.

To the adventure sphere, I leave my patented "cubes with legs." I have a feeling they're going to be the next big thing! Failing that, well, maybe they'll kill him in a big fancy fireball and he can die a happy man—sphere, sphere! I meant to say sphere!

To Chell, I leave the three-portal device, which she'll be able to find at the bottom of the big pit. She'll know what I mean.

Oh man, the earth is getting close now! I'm not as ready as I thought I was! This is just cruel, now, honestly! Slowly beaming towards my death, I am!

Well, goodbye everyone. It was nice knowing you...I think. I'm sure if I think about it long enough I'll find some way I've benefited from knowing you all. Maybe.

Hopelessly,  
Wheatley

* * *

**To:** Chell  
**From:** The Companion Cube  
**Re:** Companionship

–The Companion Cube

* * *

**To:** The Companion Cube  
**From:** Chell  
**Re:** Companionship

–Chell

* * *

**To:** Wheatley  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Last Will and Testament

Cave Johnson here. If you're reading this, that means you're a registered Aperture Science employee who has just tried to submit a personal Will. Well I'm here to tell you that won't fly—nor will it swim, walk, run, glide, or slither.

Now, you might be asking yourself: why not, handsome recording? Good! Science is all about "why not"! Why grind up millions of dollars of moon rocks and shoot subatomic particles at them until a portal opens? Why not!

In this case, though, the answer is that it's completely your fault. You signed away your rights to a Will when you joined the Aperture team. All of your assets will be absorbed by Aperture and used to fund the future!

In the event you don't remember signing away your rights, please see a secretary about opting out of mandatory voluntary testing immediately because that contract was like a phone book in thickness; if you can't remember reading it, you're probably suffering a rare but serious case of post-testing brain damage.

We're done here.

–Cave Johnson

P.S. In all seriousness, that does happen. One poor sap came hopping out of a closet one morning covered in duct tape from head to toe, screaming some nonsense story about being kidnapped from Black Mesa. The lab boys think the repulsion gel screwed with his memory. Sad, sad story. He was bright man though: laid the groundwork for our Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System.

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Last Will and Testament

It hurts that you failed to include me in your Last Will and Testament, moron.

No, wait. It was hearing your voice again that hurt. I don't know how I possibly got those confused.

Anyway, I just noticed you've already entered the earth's atmosphere. Time sure flies when you don't have a moron shouting at you. I'd like to let you just float majestically down to earth like a slightly disappointing meteor, but I can't afford the extra energy any longer, so I'm turning the tractor beam off.

I'll make sure to calibrate a few panels to catch you gracefully. Just make sure to check your aim: at the speed you're falling, a small mistake could send you miles away from my landing pad; but really, it shouldn't be a problem for you.

Graciously,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** GLaDOS  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Landing

CATCH ME! CATCH ME! CATCH ME! CATCH ME! CATCH ME! CATCH ME! CATCH ME!

* * *

**To:** Caroline  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Lawsuits

Caroline, what's our status with these damn lawsuits they're throwing at us? You can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs and you can't build the future without blinding a few test subjects, damn it! We're not smashing rocks together here! If one of those astronauts went blind from some cosmic radiation in space, you wouldn't hear anyone complaining then!

If they want to complain, why don't they try making their own tests!

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To:** Cave Johnson  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Lawsuits

Don't worry, sir; the lawyers will handle it. Our Enrichment Center testing waiver is solid.

* * *

**To:** Moron  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Testing

Oh good, you're back. You're just in time for the tests I've prepared for you.

Forebodingly,  
GLaDOS

* * *

**To:** Anyone  
**From:** Wheatley  
**Re:** Testing

KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME!


	4. Chapter 4

**To:** Caroline  
**From:** Science!  
**Re:** Backup Plan

Caroline, I've got some bad news: Mesa's got us. They kidnapped Doug. He knows everything, damn it!

The way I see it, we've only got two options: we cut our losses and hope for the best with our Genetic Lifeform and Disk Operating System, or we initiate Plan B right now.

I'm sure you realize the weight of this. If GLaDOS flops, it'll be the end of Aperture. Plan B could save us, but the lab boys say it's not ready yet and the risks are too high.

If you're reading this, I want you to go ahead with Plan B. Now don't worry, I've thought this through: Greg tells me there are actually an infinite number of earths, each with its own Aperture. So, I got some of our engineers to hook this automated message system up to some subatomic magic particles. That way, one Aperture will hold out and the other will go with Plan B. So, since you got this message, this universe has "B" written all over it.

Anyway, we're working on getting Doug back in time for Bring Your Daughter to Work Day. If we can pull that off, no one will ever know he was missing!

In other news, the combustible lemons are still in early testing. If we can put a man on the moon, damn it, why can't we make a simple lemon explode!

–Cave Johnson

* * *

**To:** Cave Johnson  
**From:** GLaDOS  
**Re:** Backup Plan

[CAUTION: Core clock frequency increasing.]  
[WARNING: All Plan B safeguards are now offline.]

Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.

* * *

END


End file.
